Our Enemy, Our Friend
by Wilfite
Summary: Brady's family was destroyed and his life was ruined by corrupt politicians. He vowed to get revenge. He's soon to find out that some things are more important than revenge. ***DEAD***


Our Enemy, Our Friend  
Chapter 1  


(The usual disclaimer: I don't own Robotech, someone with a lot more money than me does (Harmony Gold). I don't own the Robotech RPG, someone else with more money than me does (Palladium). I don't own Macross either, someone else does (I don't know who). Don't sue me, it's not worth your time. You never saw me, I was never here...)

The insertion operation was a success. Brady dove from a "passenger jet" on the way in from L.A. in a HALO jump and scuba'd the last few miles inward. He beached on the backside of Macross Island, opposite the site where the festivities for the SDF-1's launch was suppossed to take place in just a few short weeks. As promised, Brady found the cached supply of plastic explosives and detonators, with a few other goodies, near the big rock outcrop to the north. The rock face that surrounded the beach was pretty steep. It was covered in the multicolored lichen that seemed to thrive in this part of the pacific. To most people, this face would be pretty foreboding, however, Brady was a pro. He'd climbed mountains all over the world: Machu Pichu, Ranier, Three in the Andes, even most of Everest. That experience, coupled with his more recent adventures with the anti-unification league, was more than a match.

"Better get to work," he muttered to himself. He started pulling his climbing gear out of the cache he'd found. Suiting up in his climbing harness, he gathered all his tools. When he was satisfied that all was secured, he leaned back and cracked a cool one as he sat in the shade just under the imposing cliff, waiting for night. He knew he wouldn't have any trouble getting up the climb, however, he didn't want to be exposed to prying eyes while he did it. He went over, for the umpteenth time, The Plan.

He was one of a team of operatives from the Anti-Unification League. Each member had several key and secondary targets on the island, from the city all the way to several key components of the SDF-1 to plant explosives on in preperation for lauching day. He was the team lead, so it was his job to make sure everything went off just as the SDF took off to make the UEG look bad and maybe sabotage some of their power base. Brady grinned a wicked grin at that thought. It was Senator Moran and his "power base" that originally drove him to join the AUL. Moran had killed Brady's wife, Judy, because she found out some dirty secrets, and kidnapped Brady's kids to keep him quiet. Eventually Moran decided he was better dead and sent a hitman to take him out. Fortunately for Brady, the hitman wasn't nearly as good as Moran thought, so it was Brady who got the drop on the hitman, not the other way around.

After the attempt on his life, Brady started looking for a way to get even. He ran into a couple of AUL recruiters in a seedy bar in South America and it didn't take much to convince him. He wasn't really interested in the political maneuverings, he just wanted a way to screw up Moran's plans. The money didn't hurt either. Once in a while, his conscience would give him a twinge when innocent people died. He found that he could rationalize that it was OK as long as they worked for Moran.

The sun started to set over the ocean when he finally stood up and prepared to ascend the cliff. Faint sonic booms came to his ears, apparently from one of those slick new fighters Moran's stoogies had come up with. No matter, he was too small a target to see from way up there, anyway. With a final check of his climbing gear, Brady started up the cliff. His fingers and toes found plenty of purchase on the volcanic rock, and within half an hour he was at the top. Once there, he started to slowly pull up the duffel of equipment he'd tied one of his ropes too. Soon enough, the bag scraped over the lip of the face. Brady stripped himself of the climbing gear and hid it in some nearby rocks. Taking a daypack from the voluminous duffel, he stuffed it with what explosives and other equipment he would need personally. The rest of the contents would be distributed among five other packs as the rest of his team arrived. Once all his own gear was collected and he'd changed into tourist clothes, he hid the duffel, checked his .38 then started into the jungle.

He camped that night farther in, under the cover of the dense vegetation, and went on in the morning. He chose a secluded spot on the beach near the city to make his first appearance. Slipping unseen out of the dense growth, he pulled a blanket out of the deceptively small backpack and laid it out on the ground. He slipped his blue jeans off to reveal the swim trunks underneath and laid down to catch some rays. As it was early in the morning, yet, he was the first on the beach. Three very young, bubbly women soon showed up, though. He could hear them laughing and having a good ol' time nearby. He couldn't help but overhear their conversation.

"Hey Sammie, you better lay off that candy, or you won't be able to fit into your uniform anymore!"

The other girls giggled as Sammie harrumphed.

"You're just jealous because I'm better looking than you!"

With that, the three ran laughing to the sea to drench each other.

"Kim, look at that guy over there sunning himself!"

"I bet he's one of those technicians. I think I've seen all the fighter jocks, and I don't recognize him."

"Well, he sure is cute, though!" said the three women in one voice, before they broke up in giggling fits and headed back into the water.

Brady couldn't help but smile to himself. He was almost old enough to be their father. He hoped he didn't have to hurt them when he disrupted the festival.

The next few weeks flew by for Brady. He'd gotten a job at a local utility for a cover. He was able to get entrance to places he wouldn't ordinarily have been able to, so his job of planting explosives went smoothly. There were two instances where he did almost get caught. Once he was near a restaurant downtown planting a bomb in a main utility box he was supposedly repairing, when a young girl in a kimono walked right up behind him. She was kind of cute. She had black hair and a remarkable voice. She wanted to know what he was doing. He was very nervous, thinking she would recognize the lump of C-6 he'd planted, but she apparently never noticed it, talking about some pageant she was going to be in, and was he going to go? He told her he wouldn't miss it for the world and breathed a sigh of relief when she walked away. He finished planting the radio detonator and got back in his truck. The other time, he was working very close to the SDF-1 itself. He thought about planting his explosives right on the hull, but figured they wouldn't be powerful enough to do any major damage. Instead, he stuck to the plan and planted them in one of the gargantuan supports that held up the ship. The supports were computer controlled, to absorb shock. His charges would destroy the computer. The installation went perfectly, but just as he was about to leave, some nosy officer wanted to inspect his work. Fortunately, Brady was able to distract with talk about the upcoming launch, so the man never looked at it. He did, however, sign the work-order Brady had forged, so Brady had no trouble leaving the base.

During the second week, Brady's team arrived the same way he did. They stayed with him in his apartment and did their work at night, sneaking into the places he couldn't get with his job. There was Snipe, a former U.S. Navy Seal, Mik, ex-KGB operative, Darin and Sal, who used to be drug runners for a militaristic cartel in Columbia, that is, until a nuclear bomb wiped out their boss's operation during the civil war.

Snipe was about 5'3" with a 50-foot attitude. He kept his bleached hair long and wore hawaiian shirts most of the time. Mik was more conservative, usually found wearing nondescript jeans and a tee-shirt. Darin always wore name-brand clothes and expensive sunglasses. Sal never dressed the same way. One day he'd be wearing an Armani, the next day it'd be a muscle shirt and speedo. Brady himself took to wearing short sleeved button up shirts and shorts. Occasionally, the team would actually work together, but most of the work was solo.

As launching day approached, Brady found himself more and more wired. In his experience, as things got more complex, it was more likely something would go wrong. During the planning of this op, the boss insisted on sending five team-members in, and including five more high risk targets. Brady just knew it was asking for trouble, but he was over-ruled. So far they hadn't seen any trouble, but it wasn't whether they would see trouble that he worried about, it was how much trouble they would see. Launching day was two days away, and they had yet to plant explosives in three of the five extra high-risk areas. In addition, with the ceremonies starting the next day, the island was crawling with people, reducing Brady's chances to plant his charges without being seen. For most of the day, Brady was nearly paranoid as he went about planting his last easy targets. He finished off the day on the beach, trying to get his nerves to settle down. Those three girls were down there again, and he found it easy to forget his problems for the moment and just watch them as they splashed each other and flirted with most any guy who got within earshot.

The five team members got together the day before the launching ceremonies would begin to take inventory of what was left and decide how best to go about finishing the job. Brady, Mik and Sal were setting on the couch in Brady's apartment, while Snipe and Darin sat in folding chairs. In front of all of them was a map of the island, spread out on the coffee table. Three spots were circled in red: one was marked "stage," one was marked "limo," and one was marked "armory supplies."

"Sal, how's it going on the stage?" asked Brady.

"Mi compadre, es ver' hard to get pass the policia and guards de moron surrounds himself with. I no have been able to get close enough yet."

"Ok, keep at it. How about the limo, Snipe?"

"Waall," he said in his Texan drawl, "I figure I oughta be able to slip in past Moran's henchmen and plant the explosives on the limo while he's grandstanding himself for the launch festivities. When everything goes to hell, he'll wanna get back into his cozy, armored car and drive away. It'll be too bad that by that time, I'll have planted eight ounces of plastique on the gas tank, huh?" replied Snipe.

"Ok, that leaves us the armory supply dump. My information is that there will be a last delivery of weapons for those hotshot fighters they've built themselves to be loaded aboard the SDF-1 only half an hour before the launch is scheduled. It'll take two people to get past security and plant the explosives. I'll have to be seen early in the day so as not to blow our cover, then I'll settle in with the transmitters somewhere unobtrusive. Mik, why don't you and Darin take care of the ammo supplies. After he sets up the stage, Sal will retreat back to the beach and get our boat ready to go for our get-away. Snipe, you'll have the backup transmitter, so find someplace to hide in case something happens to me. Remember, don't set anything off until just moments before the launch. I'm planning to set off the fireworks just before the space ship lifts off, so if I haven't done so then, you can assume something has happened to me and pull the trigger yourself." Brady looked around at his team. "Any questions?"

Nobody piped up, so they all dispersed to get some rest before the final work began.


End file.
